Tingling Velvet
by angnheadly
Summary: M/M Fenders, kinda like a love story, Anders and Fenris can't deny there attraction for each other, but it's not a easy ride to happiness.  Drama and fun bits with loads of explicit sex along with the romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Fenders/Tingling Velvet**

**M/M Fenders, kinda like a love story, Anders and Fenris can't deny the attraction they have for each other, but it's not a easy ride to happiness. Drama and fun bits with loads of explicit sex along with the romance.**

_Anders and Fenris mostly but with a Seb and Isabela sub-plot, not canon, soppy romance bits, rough sex, drugging, bromance, near rape, kittens, blood, drama, death. Really not for under 18's, homophobes, and people who don't like lovely slash or who don't want to see a more fun Seb!_

_I obviously don't own BioWare or any of their creations._

_Ahh Fenders, this is for my lovely friend **Tropical fool **who introduced me to this whole wonderful world and gave me the confidence to write this. She writes the most delicious smut and you should check her out, http :/ .ne t /u / 2627922 /_

_My Beta's - Fenders corrupted Nyna, and slash hating Noo _

**Chapter 1 – Denial **

Fenris hurried through the cold evening air of Lowtown, trying to ignore the filth stacked everywhere, broken crates, rubble, discarded food scraps. Watching a rat dart off with a crust in its mouth, he was reminded of his own run down mansion and its inherent rat problem. Muttering to himself he approached his destination.

Walking through the worn door of The Hanged Man, Fenris' spotted his companions sat around a large wooden table. As he made his way towards it, a quick glance told him everybody was there...even Anders.

At the sight of the mage, Fenris slowed his pace, feeling the usual low twist of lust in his stomach coupled with his deep dislike of magic. Resigning himself to an awkward evening he made his way to the bar. Ordering a whole bottle of Orleasian red from Corff. Maybe getting drunk would help with his tangled emotions?

Anders was sat at the end of the table directly facing the door, his attention immediately drawn when the elf entered. Seeing him stood at the bar, lithe, graceful body coupled with the tremendous strength, Anders realised that his desire for the elf was just as strong as ever, it didn't seem to matter what he did. Sleeping with others- much to the distaste of Justice- or simply just trying to keep his distance, nothing seemed to work.

Hawke and Varric were deep in conversation, their heads bent low in discussion. Merrill sat reading through one of the giant magic tomes she collected, while Isabela was hanging all over Sebastian like lichen, no doubt looking at his cards while she agreed with his Maker driven sermon. Nobody was paying any attention to Anders, or so he thought as he watched Fenris walk over to the table. Varric's eyes flickered over the pair of them, registering the situation.

Determined to have a good night, Fenris took his seat, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions running through his mind. Taking a large swallow of the quite good wine, he considered... Yes, he hated what magic had done to his life, but he couldn't deny the attraction he had to Anders. Should he try and push past that, try and accept the mage for the man he was underneath? He felt an instant burst of anger at himself for what he considered a weakness.

"So are we all here now?" asked Hawke, "can we start to play?"

Anders sat, hands on the rough wooden table loosely holding his cards; he knew his hand to be worthless, so allowed his attention to wander to the tattooed elf opposite him, running his eyes over Fenris's arms as he watched the lyrium tattoo move over the flexing muscle beneath.

He wondered if the lyrium burn would feel the same as the skin around it, or like a fine strip of lead under. Every time he healed Fenris he hoped for the chance to 'accidently' touch the glowing lines that so intrigued him. Fenris, however, seemed more reluctant to be touched than normal when it came to Anders and hissed if the mage came too close to his bare skin around the torn clothing, often insisting on holding the edges together while Anders hands hovered above pouring more magical energy into him than usual. If he could touch then, run a finger over a healing wound to smooth away any trace of scar, he could leave the skin perfect... He did his best however, putting all he could into it to make up for the forced distance.

Fenris glanced up, green eyes peering through the spiky white fringe that hid his longing gaze from the despised yet desired mage opposite; was he even now, he wondered, lying to himself? Fenris couldn't deny the truth, that he lay awake at nights, thinking of Anders, and nothing else, becoming so aroused it was painful, but refusing to touch himself until, eventually, worn down he gave in. Allowing himself the brief luxury of forgetting what Anders was, needing barely one touch to bring his seed bursting forth, the whisper 'Anders' on his lips in that moment of blissful denial.

Anders eyes were raking him again, the lust and curiosity blatant on his face. Fenris grinned inwardly; it was good to see the mage suffer, not quite grasping in his glee that the very same emotions had been mirrored on his own face during the evening.

The card game was drawing to a close. Hawke offered to walk Merrill home, not wanting her to walk the dangerous streets alone at night. For once she still had most of her money left, most likely because Isabela's attentions had been focused elsewhere.

Fenris watched with amusement as a drunkenly befuddled Sebastian was led home by a far too willing Isabela, never giving up in her quest to seduce the Prince.

Eventually only Varric, Anders and Fenris remained. It was surprising that Anders was still in; normally unlucky with cards, his choice to throw hands early to spend his time staring at Fenris had paid off. Varric, aware of Anders lust and feeling more than a little awkward, was making his excuses and grabbing a dwarven maiden he'd had his eye on all night, disappearing upstairs and leaving Fenris gazing at Anders across the table.

"Another hand?" asked Anders gesturing to the cards.

Fenris paused before he answered; if he declined and left now, nothing would change, he would still want Anders, but...could he just try to forget...for one evening, a few hours even, as if Anders didn't represent all that had tainted his life. And that instead he was just simply a man, a man who desired him and who he in turn also wanted?

Heady with this option open to him, he allowed images of repressed desires to dance before his eyes, Anders with him...soft lips against his, hands exploring beneath those robes, the imagined weight of the mage on top of him...in him. He mentally shook himself. So be it.

"No, not right now, I feel I've been lucky enough already." he indicated to the pile of silvers that had grown steadily throughout the night. " I have no urge, however, to return to the mansion and drink alone." he peered at Anders through his fringe, open curiosity on his face.

Anders breath caught a little in his chest- was this an opening? An invitation to stay? Thinking that he had little to lose by pretending it so, he ventured "Would you care for my company?"

Fenris' smile was all the answer Anders needed. Maker, he was beautiful when he smiled. Even that brief flash lit his face up changing it from the stark, brooding beauty he normally saw to a creature of light, the man capable of happiness underneath.

'Do I move, thought Anders awkwardly, 'shall I go and sit nearer to him?' The table felt too large now they were the only companions left.

Fenris glanced around, spotting the alcove seat on the back wall free, he gestured towards it. "Do you mind if we sit there, it's opposite the fire and I would enjoy the warmth".

Nodding in agreement and eyeing the rather cosy seat Anders gathered up the bottle of wine and grabbed two fresh glasses from the bar, smiling to Norah as he passed and asking her to bring them another bottle.

They settled back into the wall seat, Fenris stretching his long legs out towards the fire, his jerkin pulling up just a little as he did showing a hint of tanned skin with a wider line of lyrium swirling through, "Mmmh that's better" he said snuggling deeper into the soft fur covered cushions, "I'm always so cold here, that's one thing I can definitely remember, more sun!" he leant forward pouring them both wine.

Anders took the proffered wine and they sat, just savouring the drink and the heat.

Fenris felt strangely content in the mages company, knowing he and Anders could tackle any problem that came to them. But also the pleasure of being in the company of a man who he knew not only desired him but who also seemed to care about and show a interest in him, no matter how often he pushed him away. He resigned himself to the fact that he did have feelings for the mage. There was no point trying to deny it; it wasn't possible to feel like this about someone you truly hated.

Gesturing towards Fenris' bare feet with his cup Anders queried, "Do your feet not get cold, I have never seen you wear anything but your leggings, not matter the weather or the place".

Fenris smiled, "Yes, my feet get cold, and yes, I do feel the stones we walk on... But it is all I know, apart from simple slave garb to sleep in, this is the only clothing I ever had or indeed recall"

"Doesn't it become annoying? Don't you ever cut your foot or stub your toe? Does that not make you think, hmmm boots that's an idea, you do know about boots right? We could find you some nice winged ones to match." Anders grinned at him, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

Fenris slowly turned from the fires heat, drawing his leg up he lay it along the cushion of the bench, his foot coming to rest lightly on Anders leg. "Does my foot look cut or my toes 'stubbed'?" he asked with a wicked grin, watching Anders surprise as he took in the sight before him.

Anders stunned that the elf had so unreservedly touched him; "No you win! Your feet look fine, completely unblemished if truth be told." and they were, apart from whorls of lyrium all along the sole and the strip of leather from his leggings, a little dusty maybe but very soft and plump looking. "But if you ever travel to Ferelden, take a pair of boots, there's a lot of dogs there and this view wouldn't be quite so pleasant then".

Grinning at the mages obvious shock Fenris slid his foot slowly down Anders thigh and raising up the other leg, turned to sit facing him with his knees up, sliding both feet under Anders leg, hearing the gasp that came from the mage. "You don't mind do you? Your leg is very warm after all", he gave a little wiggle of his toes, causing Anders to choke on his drink. 'Maybe this would work' he thought, while enjoying the closeness and comfort of touching the other.

Gulping wine down his suddenly dry throat, trying not to cough, Anders could still feel where the light weight of him had been and the tingling sensation from his foot slowly running down his thigh. Now he was warming his feet under him. Maker's breath Fenris was flirting with him! What had brought on this change in attitude? He'd noticed many times that Fenris would steal a longing glance at him, he knew the elf had some feelings for him, even if they were only sexual , but this...

Seeing Fenris sitting almost demurely, legs pulled up, arms loosely clasped around them and appearing so innocent; he decided to make a move of his own...

Reaching out with one finger he lightly touched the leather covering one drawn up knee "I've often wondered" he mused, still touching the elf, "just what type of animal this is?" he could feel Fenris tense slightly at the touch, hands clenching beneath his, seeing as he'd got this far unscathed he continued, "it's almost see through in places". Moving his finger slowly down the leg following the faint trail of lyrium, he looked up to meet the wary gaze, keeping his eyes locked onto the elf's he carried on down till he came to rest against Fenris' hand. Anders felt a pulse jump into him as it met the other, and Fenris's large eyes widened as he felt the same jolt too.

Holding still, allowing the contact, Fenris' voice was quiet as he replied "It's young War Elephant, a rarity, not even the Magister's will kill one just for the skin, but if one happens to die young..." he shrugged, "Its strong, durable, and also it allowed my markings to be shown off".

Eyes locked onto each other, and although barely touching, neither seemed inclined to move. Anders slowly slid his finger across the back of the elf's hand, watching it creep closer to the fine line of lyrium. As it grazed over the top he heard Fenris' sharp intake of breath and looked up to see his eyes fixed upon the mages hand.

"I'm sorry that their creation caused you so much pain" he said looking directly into the elf's eyes "but they are truly beautiful, as are you" Feeling bolder Anders traced the line, feeling a pulse of electricity as the natural magic of the mage caused the lyrium to react, it was like a tingling sensation, not unpleasant.

Fenris looked at the finger slowly moving along the line of lyrium; one part of him wanted to snatch his hand away, to pull it back and rub it furiously to remove the feeling, to curse the mage for touching him, but the other more overwhelming side wanted to reach out with his own and touch the mage in return, to feel the soft skin, curl his fingers around the hand of another, draw him close, pulling him forwards till lips met... sweat started to bead on his upper lip as he fought the internal struggle.

Anders was almost holding his breath, he could see the confusion, the longing, and defence that always rose when he was close to touching Fenris. He inched his fingers slowly over the edge of his hand, holding it lightly he gave it brief squeeze, a touch that said, I'm not rushing you, I know this is hard.

He met the others eyes for a pause before Fenris pulled back. Setting his feet back down on the floor, he poured them both wine. Now it was Fenris gulping his wine down, his colour slightly raised, a faint pink tint to his face, looking adorable next to his white hair.

Another hour passed, as did more bottles of wine, Norah keeping them well supplied. The Hanged Man was becoming more crowded, late night drinkers and off duty guardsmen stumbled in taking a space anywhere they could, drinks ordered and spilled. The smoky hazy atmosphere surrounding them both in their own little world.

Anders was finding it harder and harder to resist touching the elf. The closeness, the wine, had all built up to a nearly overwhelming urge, to pull Fenris into his arms and cover his lips with his own. Not wanting to destroy any ground they had gained he resisted, but Maker, it was hard. The light from the fire reflected on the tan skin, highlighting the tattoos, the white hair almost gleaming, those large green sparkling eyes staring back at him. They were like the bottomless depths of the sea he thought slightly drunkenly.

Fenris sat curled up close to Anders on the cushioned bench, his earlier shyness worn down by the numerous bottles of wine they'd shared. He leaned into the mage, enjoying the feel of Anders body next to his, the warmth, intimacy, the genuine affection the mage had for him. It was something he never thought he'd know. Sinking into the comfort, cup clutched loosely in his hand, he looked out across the room as the tavern door opened and more drinkers spilled into the busy bar. Sitting suddenly bolt upright, the cup falling to the floor, he reached behind him for his sword; "Prepare yourself" he hissed "Templar's!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two - Feathers**

Transfixed by the elf opposite him it took Anders a moment before he realised what Fenris had said, looking around at the warning, he watched as the three off duty Templar's walked through the crowded inn. Reaching for his staff, he prepared himself mentally to cast a shield over them both. Norah fully aware of the implications weaved the Templar's through the crowds to a table far out of sight of the Apostate, evicting the current occupants to the Templar's delight, swiftly bringing them jugs of ale and joining in with their joking she occupied their interest. She glanced round meeting the eyes of both men, giving them a 'leave now' look, darting her eyes towards the door to make the point clear.

"Anders we need to go", he looked up at the sound of his name, dragging his eyes away from the hated Templar's, the slow burn of anger subsiding as he realised..

"Anders!" the surprise of hearing his name coming from those lips, that deep voice calling him and not simply 'the mage', the pleasure of another breakthrough overshadowed by the immediate danger.

Making their way swiftly through the crowds, Fenris ushered him out the door, all the while sweeping his eyes around protectively, guarding him. The burst of warmth in his chest that he'd felt at the use of his name grew even larger at this unusually kind action.

Varric reaching out his door to call for to Norah to bring them more mead, spotted Anders and Fenris leaving together, the elf's hand resting on the mages shoulder, maybe something was actually going to happen he thought. Mmm interesting, this would be one to keep a eye on, maybe all the lingering glances everybody else seemed not to notice were actually going to lead somewhere now. Mentally rubbing his hands together in glee he went back into his room, mead forgotten his mind creating doomed romances.

Finally getting to the top of the Chantry's steps, Isabela paused, hoisting a very drunk Sebastian's arm back around her shoulder, "Yes, yes the Maker I know" she said agreeing with his bumbling sermon, maybe i shouldn't have plied him with 'quite' so much mead, she thought as she struggled to hold him upright. Not that it had done her much good, he seemed to ignore every pass she made. And yet despite all the alcohol he still wouldn't shut up about the bloody Maker! All the way through Hightown, every step of the way it had been Maker this, Maker that, if she hadn't wanted to seduce him quite so badly, she would of been tempted to dump him in a bush and leave him for the Maker to look after instead.

"thash why I like you" he slurred ruffling her hair "you unerstand me, bur you nee to repent, youse been a verrrry bad grrrl"

"Are you sure you want to go back to the Chantry tonight, your really are quite drunk" she asked trying to smooth her headband back down, she slipped her hand up in between his chain mail and started to stroke the soft line of fur on his belly, I do have very comfortable rooms back at The Hanged Man, and there's plenty of room in my bed.

"I'm not drunk, I'm, fiiine, look shhh, ill bee quiet ash a moush" he whispered pulling away from her. Not even seeming to notice her stroking hand

Isabela tried to hold in her giggles at the sight of a drunken Sebastian walking around the Chantry courtyard on tiptoes, failing badly to be quiet. She roared as he fell down the stairs, landing in a clanking heap at the bottom.

Dancing gracefully down the steps after him, she asked "Sebastian are you hurt?" while holding her stomach laughing at the growing puddle of urine around his waist

"dint hurt" he slurred "Issy, woarchoo doin up there"

"Sebastian Vael!" a booming voice called.

Looking up and seeing the Grand Cleric Isabela attempted to hold in her laughter and put on a most helpful voice, " shall I help you get him in?" she offered kindly.

Nodding once at the barely dressed pirate the grand cleric marched back up the stairs, disapproval written all over her face at Sebastian's choice of friends.

Poking her tongue out at the retreating back, Isabela grabbed hold of Sebastian and pulled him to his feet "make sure you take that armour off before you fall asleep, your go rusty" she laughed.

Lugging Sebastian up the stairs again was not her idea of fun, especially if the outcome was not going to be the one she desired, however spotting an open door just inside the Chantry's entrance, she had a suddenly brilliant idea.

"Goodnight Sebastian" she gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and slunk off into the shadows watching him hold his hand up to his mouth, before looking at it in confusion.

Ahhh if only she'd met him before he 'got' religion she thought making her way to the open door, by all accounts he had been quite the playboy, she sighed and then spotted her prize, "well hello!" she smiled in the darkness.

Leaving The Hanged Man, walking swiftly through Lowtown. Anders reached out to take Fenris' hand, the full moonlight making the elf's spiky hair gleam, like an albino prince he thought, Fenris shook the hand away "leave me" he grumbled, not wanting the distraction, sweeping his eyes around for danger, glancing behind every now and then, just to make sure the Templar's hadn't noticed them or their disappearance. Passing through the Bazzaar they headed left making for the stairs.

"Thank you Fenris" Anders said as they approached the steps, "that was...unexpected"

"Hmmphh , don't thank me, were not out of danger yet" he gestured to a oncoming templar patrol at the top of the stairs.

"Maker, how many of these bastards are around tonight" Anders quickly looked around at the shadows, eliminating those that weren't dark enough or were too far away not to draw attention if two figures were spotted running into them.

Grabbing the mages arm, Fenris swiftly walked them towards the narrow stairs at the end of the Bazzaar, muttering "don't read anything into this" he roughly shoved Anders up against the wall, spreading his arms either side of him protecting him from view of the templar patrol walking past.

Fenris was nose to nose with Anders, tense and ready to leap to his defence, to take on the patrol if they noticed the mage crushed against the wall. "If they spot us, I'll fight. I'm not going to let the Templar's take you.

"You're so romantic" Anders smiled, quite sure he and Justice could take on the Templar's by themselves.

The Templar's glanced briefly over at what they thought was a couple kissing in the alleys shade, seeing the large sword on the man's back they continued on their way, one templar laughed calling as they passed "Take it inside", the others joining him in laughter.

Shielding Anders with his arms, Fenris watched as the patrol moved past them. Turning back he stared straight into the mages amber eyes. Fenris felt the heat coming from Anders body, they were so close, he could smell the sweet scent of the mage, an enticing blend of citrus, ginger and ozone.

Unable to stop himself, a part of him screaming 'don't touch' Fenris stroked the tendril of hair escaping the tie. Reaching around he pulled the length of ribbon out, letting Anders hair fall loose. Using one hand he played with it, framing it around Anders face, the other arm still held protectively over him. With his hair down Anders looked softer, less harried. Fenris curled a length around his finger looking at it, the colour was beautiful a tangled blonde mane. Fenris explored the mages face, stroking his cheek, his eyes, down the bridge of his nose, pausing on his top lip, grazing Anders stubble tilting his head down slightly.

Anders looked at Fenris watching him, a soft expression of the elf's face. The feel of Fenris fingers touching his hair, his face, caused him to shiver in delight, stomach clenching into a tight knot of lust.

Leaning forward, Anders brushed his lips against the elf's, feeling an electric shock run through him at the first touch of the elf's lips on his own...kissing him again... this time for slightly longer.

Pulling him closer, wrapping one arm around his waist, he ran the other through the spiky white hair, pressing his lips against the elf's more insistently, gently probing with his tongue, his heart jumping when it met with Fenris own. Hungrily he devoured the elf's mouth, hands wrapped in each other's hair, both trying to pull the other closer.

Pulling back from the kiss, breathless, Anders looked at Fenris, open want on his face.

"Don't read too much into this" warned Fenris, his voice deeper than normal "maybe I've had too much to drink."

"Fenris, shut up" Anders smiled at him, leaning forward, resting his forehead on the elf's, "Don't tell me you don't want this as much as i do"

Twisting just slightly Fenris gently kissed Anders mouth. "I don't know" he said honestly, resting his head on the mages board shoulders.

"I think part of you knows" reaching down Anders stroked Fenris' erection through his leggings, caressing the long, firm length of him, delighting in its size. His other hand tangled into the white hair, marvelling at its feather softness.

Fenris groaned as Anders rubbed his hardness. Moving his mouth he bit lightly at the mages neck and pushed his hips into Anders hand. This was everything that he'd ever wanted, that he'd dreamed of all those long nights.

Anders slipped his hand behind the laces doing up the front of Fenris leggings. He brushed the tip of Fenris cock with his thumb, then grasped hold of it firmly, feeling the sharp jolt of electricity as the natural magic of the mage affected the lyrium. "Just tell me you want me" Anders growled "ask me to fuck you".

Fenris jumped as he felt the electrical pulse, a wave of sickening memory's flashing over him 'hands touching, grabbing, hot electricity burning him, draining weakness. Fenris jumped back from the mage, a look of terror on his face "don't" his voice shaky "please don't" he turned and stalked away.

Anders leant back against the wall his breathing ragged, willing his erection away, trying to ignore the ache in his groin. Standing he called after Fenris "You want me too, as bad as I want you, your only lying to yourself" reaching down uncomfortably for the ribbon on the ground he tied his hair back up, and headed in the opposite direction to home.

Fenris carried on walking not turning, his mind a confusing whirl of emotions, he held the feather up to his face that he'd pulled from Anders pauldrons, stroking it over his lips, breathing in the scent of the mage he whispered only to himself..."Maybe".


	3. Chapter 3

Huge hugs to the lovely **Tropicalfool** for all the inspiration and support.

**Chapter -3 –Whores **

Fenris sat on his bed in the ruined mansion he called home, placing a single black feather on the crate that acted as a bedside table. He lit the lamp, the light casting deep shadows in the room, and hiding the cracked walls with their peeling wallpaper. It was one of the only rooms Fenris used, all the others leading off from the main hall remained unchanged since the day he moved in.

The hardness in his leggings was a constant reminder of the evening, He didn't know what was going on, but he had experienced the biggest memory flash he'd gotten since the creation of his tattoos. Normally he would grasp at any flash of memory, but not this time, it felt... wrong. The intimacy of the touch that triggered it echoed the cruel touch of another, one that left him feeling drained, weak, powerless. And his strength was the only thing he could depend on.

He rubbed his head, further mussing his already tangled hair, then leaned back on the bed and grabbed his pillow, drawing it to his body and hugging it tightly to him. He didn't know, just didn't know what it meant or what he wanted. Rolling onto his side, his groin aching, he moaned.

Walking morosely through Hightown, heading towards the Blooming Rose, Anders noticed an oddly familiar Chantry sister hurrying past him. Strange to see one out so late, he thought briefly, before the dull ache under his robes reminded him of where he was going and why.

His thoughts turned to the events of the evening, the conversation, the flirting. Fenris was interested in him there was no denying it, he throbbed with the memory of the elf's touch.

Something, however, was making Fenris hold back. More than likely it was because he, Anders was a mage, he thought angrily. Like he could change who he was, even if he wanted to. As if being a mage were a bed of roses for him. But then again, that shock he'd felt when touching Fenris, it had obviously done something to Fenris besides arouse him. Groaning out loud in annoyance and startling a stray cat, he wondered what it had meant. Did it bring back painful memories of being a slave? Anders had no doubt that an Elf as beautiful as Fenris had been made to perform 'unpleasant tasks'. When would Fenris realise he was free? Hadriana was dead; Anders had watched Fenris rip her heart out. Surely that should give him some peace? Allow him to take some pleasure for himself, instead of brooding on his past all the time?

The frustration was making him more determined to reach his destination. He could feel Justice's disapproval of his decision. Forcing the sprit's awareness back into the deepest recess of his mind, he approached the Brothel's door and pushed it open.

Madame Lusine greeted him warmly. Anders may not be the most regular of visitors, but he was treated as an honoured guest, thanks to all the healing he'd given to the Brothels workers over the years.

"Is Jethann around?" he asked. Thinking of the rather exquisite elf, an idea had occurred to him after his last visit and he was keen to try it.

"Just finished with someone," she smiled, watching a city guard make his way through the other patrons, heading towards the door. "Top of the stairs, first door on the left, just give him a few minutes before going up."

Anders stopped at the bar and got a drink, trying to avoid the smug smile of Gamlen. So, he thought, this was what Hawke's uncle did with all his coin. He pushed his unwanted drink around. He'd drunk more than enough tonight, and healing hangovers, whilst suffering from one himself was no easy task.

Heading up the stairs, drink in hand, Anders knocked lightly on the door. "Ok to come in?"

"Anders!" Jethann smiled brightly. Pulling the mage in he shut the door firmly and leaned back on the wall smiling. "Well...I haven't seen you for an age. Is this visit personal or pleasure?"

"Pleasure..." Anders growled, approaching the elf and kissing him deeply.

"Ahh, I see. No luck with your crush, so you're back to use for me as a substitute again?" he breathed against Anders mouth, while slipping out of his robes.

Drawing back, Anders looked at Jethann naked and ready, the long lean, hairless body stirring his lust anew. "Evidently. Though I'd like to try something different if that's alright with you?"

Raising his hand, wisps of magic drifting of it, he looked at Jethann questioningly.

"What did you have in mind?" Jethann asked, as he started to undo the buckles holding Anders robes together.

"Nothing painful or permanent," the mage replied, reaching up. His hand glowed as he started to stroke the elf's hair, whispering words of magic under his breath.

Jethann paused in his task of undressing the mage, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror across the room. As Anders, hand wreathed in magic, continued to stroke his head, it seemed that his hair was getting lighter and lighter, becoming pure white.

"Oh I see what you're up to, you filthy apostate!" he remarked cockily.

Anders was shocked at the instant recognition of what he was attempting. "Am I that tragic?" he laughed, reaching out and undoing the plaits holding Jethann's hair. He ran his fingers through the locks, small shocks of electricity sculpting it into static spikes.

"Let's just say... the first hint was when you asked me if I knew any Tevinter, and also you're not the first to want Fenris the tattooed elf. He does rather stand out and is very attractive, and of course we love to serve here at the Blooming Rose," Jethann said as he walked over to the wardrobe, reaching inside and pulling out a long light decorative silver sword. He strapped it easily across his back and returned to Anders. "I'll admit the hairs a new one, but I had an idea who I was representing all along. I can even paint on some lines if you wish" he laughed.

Fenris dropped the empty wine bottle to the floor where it landed with a clank and rolled into another. His head spinning, he began pacing around the dusty mansion. He felt angry, but then again he often did, and right now he was angry at a lot of things. He didn't know who he was, what his past was, or even how he'd ended up like this. Swearing out loud he punched the wall. These encumbrances were denying him any kind of life, and now that there was someone, a small chance at happiness... Sighing, he sat down on the bed, rubbing his bruised hand absentmindedly. It seemed he couldn't even be intimate with someone without sickening memories returning to haunt him.

He allowed himself to recall what he'd felt when Anders touched him. A sense of wrongness, the feeling of being used by another, drained, like he'd been nothing more than a source of power and pleasure... Only not for himself. His personal feelings were...resignation, like it was inevitable. He shuddered at the memory, reaching for another bottle of wine.

"I am not a slave!" he shouted out to the walls around him. He shook his head, who was he kidding? As long as he knew nothing of himself and Danarius was still hunting him, he was a slave, no matter how he tried to leave it all behind. He knew deep down not all mages were the same, that Anders, despite Justice, wasn't truly bad, but it was so much easier to hold onto the hate, so much easier to have a focus to blame everything bad that had ever happened to him on.

Lying back on his bed, his head spinning from all he'd drunk, he stared up at the cracked ceiling. Despite all the wine his groin still ached miserably. He thought of Anders touching him, only allowing the pleasurable memories into his mind, pushing the others back, refusing to taint Anders touch with his own slave past. He felt a fool, how was he going to face the mage now? Anger rose up inside him again, but now it was tinged with something else; frustration. He refused to touch himself again, it was pathetic... rising unsteadily he decided...he would go to the Blooming Rose! He was sick of trying to sort out his confused feelings for Anders. He'd deal with it himself... on his own, as usual.

Jethann turned to Anders, the giant sword slung over his back, white hair mussed. "So what do you want? The usual?" Anders was a pleasure to be with, and that electricity thing! He grinned thinking of their past experiences.

Lowering his voice (oh it all made so much sense now he knew) he whispered, "You are a filthy mage," he walked around Anders, circling him, "and I _will not_ have you touching me."

He grasped Anders cock, squeezing it tightly, evoking a gasp from the mage, then stroked the length ...slowly.

Anders grinned, an evil glint in his eye. "So I can't touch you?" grabbing hold of the elf and reaching around, he shoved two fingers into Jethann's always-prepared hole, moving his fingers in and out the slippery depths with ease. "Are you going to stop me doing this?"

Withdrawing his fingers, Anders removed the rest of his clothing, dropping it to the floor. Leading him with kisses, he pushed the moaning elf over the bed, throwing the fake sword to the floor and shoving him face down. Climbing up next to him, Anders reached over for the ornate bottle of Orleasian oil. Pouring a generous amount of the heavily scented golden fluid into his hands, he slicked his length and pushed two fingers back into Jethann, soon adding a third. The elf wriggled and gasped under him. "So now, how does this feel? Do you want me to stop touching you now?" Anders asked, using his other hand to pleasure himself.

"No, no don't stop," moaned Jethann.

Anders reached around and grasped Jethann's cock, stroking it, running his thumb over the wet tip releasing a small pulse of electricity, eliciting a gasp.

"And how about if I sink my cock into you, will you let this filthy mage do that?" Anders asked.

Releasing Jethann, he positioned himself over the elf's buttocks, sliding the tip of his cock just between them. Jethann, used to this power play, but enjoying it nonetheless, growled in his deepest voice, "Anders, fuck me, please, I'm begging you, fuck me,"

Anders groaned loudly, sinking into the wetness, tracing invisible lines down the elf's back, imagining the lyrium. Grunting, he began to thrust in earnest.

Hiding in the shadows, the two Sharps watched the lone Chantry sister walking through Lowtown. Grinning at the prospect of such an easy target, they made no attempt to silence there approach. Blades drawn, the older of the two reached out to grab the sister. Before his hand even made contact he felt his own wrist taken and found himself with his face crushed against the wall, arm twisted behind his back.

"Bad idea boys." chuckled Isabela, dagger held in front of her, daring the hidden Sharp to attack.

"Isabela? Is that you?" The other Sharp asked, walking out of the shadows.

"Dansel?" Isabela laughed, releasing the other man, looking at his face. "And Oscar. Well, well, I should have guessed. Never ones to pass up an easy mark."

"Not so bloody easy," muttered Oscar rubbing his arm.

"Do I even want to know why you're dressed as a Chantry sister?" Dansel asked, a wry grin on his face.

"Probably not," she replied, linking arms with the pair. "Tell me, are you two still in the exotic potions market? Let me buy you a drink"

The three of them set off towards the Hanged Man, devious plans unfurling in Isabela's mind.

Another figure crept through the Hightown night, Fenris, furtively making his way to the Blooming Rose, slipping through the front door trying to stay hidden- difficult when half the heads in the Brothel looked up at the sight of the beautiful tattooed elf. Even if he wasn't known here personally, the erotic vision of him was in demand. Making his way over to Madame Lusine, Fenris asked if they could supply a particular need.

"We specialise in particular needs here, my dear," she replied

"I want a...err...certain image," stuttered Fenris blushing.

She held up her hand, "Say no more, we can create every fantasy you have in mind here and I'm sure a few that you couldn't think up".

After taking his coin, she told him to choose from any companion in the room. "Just check there wearing this," she gestured to a pale blue ribbon pinned around her wrist with rose pin, "unless you find another willing guest".

Fenris looked around the main room, taking in the range of elf's and humans available. If it weren't for the persistent stiffness in his groin and his personal determination to see this through now he was here, he would have fled. It all seemed so, so seedy. Ignoring the women he looked over the men. A tall rangy man with tied back dark hair, a long blonde haired elf with delicate tattoos, another man broad and muscular but with the perfect shade of hair... Exactly the same as Anders...

Making his way awkwardly over to the man, he paused, unsure of what to do.

"First time?" asked the man kindly.

" I...I do not, here yes, I think," Fenris answered honestly.

"No matter, come with me, I'll look after you," he said and led Fenris up the stairs.

As Fenris passed a closed door he was sure he heard his own name called out- more of a triumphant roar, in fact. Shaking his head, he followed the man. He must have been mistaken- maybe all the wine...

They entered a richly decorated room, an enormous bed covered with rich red silk hangings dominating it, matching the large chaise lounge. Going over to a well-stocked table, the prostitute poured a glass of wine. "My name is Tiran, I will try to accommodate you anyway I can." He offered Fenris the wine; "What is your desire?"

Fenris shook his head at the wine- truth be told, his head was aching a little. "I... want something... can you dress in a certain way? Do you have...um, outfits?"

Tiran smiled in his best seductive manner, "Tell me; I can be anyone..."

He walked over to the large wardrobe, the door flush with the wall. Opening it he revealed a vast array of clothes, silks, satins, in every jewelled colour, uniforms of every kind, even a suit of armour. Running his hand through the racks Tiran waited patiently.

"Mages robes," Fenris said in a low voice. "Maybe with feathers?" he added, blushing.

Smiling Tiran searched, pulling out a set of black robes with large gold belt and blood red feathered pauldrons.

Fenris gulped. "Yes," he croaked, his throat drying "Like that, put them on please". Picking up the unwanted wine, he downed it in one go.

Watching the man get changed, he ran his eyes appreciatively over the fine body, he had no idea what Anders body was like but Tiran's would do, his hair colour alone would suffice. Tiran was large, finely muscled, much more so than Anders, and rather heavily furred as well, observed Fenris. Reaching out he stroked the man's chest. "Leave the robes open," his voice low.

"What do you wish to do?" Tiran stood, resplendent in the robes, his golden haired torso showing through the open front.

"I, I... I'm sorry," Fenris blushed furiously, "um..maybe you could, or I could?"

"Shhh..." Stepping forward, Tiran took the trembling elf in his arms, "Let me lead. You're here for pleasure, right, and that what I'm best at, so just relax"

Dropping to his knees, he released Fenris' cock from the confines of his leggings. Noticing but not remarking on the lyrium etched swirls decorating not just the length, but the very tip as well. Hiding his shudder at the agony the elf must have gone through, he bent and took him in his mouth.

He threw his head back and gasped out loud. Fenris had never felt anything like this, the soft warm heat sucking on him. Giving into the pleasure, he allowed his mind to wander, replacing Tiran with Anders, imaging it was Anders gripping his hips, Anders lips taking him deep into his mouth. Looking down, Fenris reached out a hand to grasp Anders hair... and paused... An overwhelming feeling of sadness swept over him. He pulled back from Tiran's working mouth, "No... No... I can't, I'm sorry I, I mean...you're not..." shaking his head sadly, he tucked himself back inside his leggings.

Tiran stood, looking kindly at the elf before him "Don't apologise, I should have guessed, you're in love, aren't you, and does he not desire you in return?"

"No, no that's, I mean yes, there is someone else, but... him desiring me isn't the problem..."

Sighing, Fenris turned toward the door "I'm the problem," he muttered and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter -4 – Jealously **

Anders hadn't seen Fenris since the night in the Hanged Man. The elf not been far from his mind, but then again Fenris was never very far from Anders' thoughts. He'd wanted to go to see him, to talk about what had happened, but… he'd lusted after Fenris for so long, and to have him at last… or at least he hoped in part… He knew Fenris, and when he had something on his mind it was best to leave him to get on with it. He'd decided, though, he would go in a week. Any longer and he might just go mad with wondering… and with hearing Justice inform him that the elf was a distraction and to put him out of his thoughts. Luckily, Hawke had plenty of work on and Anders had been kept busy, well mostly busy, although the walking and waiting still gave him ample thinking time.

Hawke had come to see him at the clinic this morning, asking him to accompany him on a 'sensitive issue.' This usually meant mage related. Finishing up with his patients, he'd accompanied Hawke, glad for the chance to get out the city and spend time with his friend. From the first time they'd met over the Grey Warden maps, the two mages had formed a close bond of friendship. It had been Anders who comforted Hawke when his mother had been killed, staying at the mansion for a week, helping Hawke drink through his grief.

As attractive as both men were, they'd never felt any real attraction to one another. Hawke had a made a pass at Anders once when deep in his drink and grief and had attempted to kiss the other mage but… Anders had fallen for Fenris the first time he saw him walking down the steps into the Alienage. It wasn't just the way he looked, or that when he spoke Anders' insides had just about melted at that deep voice, although that had grabbed him at the time. It was the wounded bird quality. That underneath this fearsome warrior was a hurt and lonely man. It just broke Anders' heart, and as much as he desired the elf, he also wanted Fenris to be happy. In some ways he was like another mage who he wanted to rescue, except he wasn't held prisoner by Templars, but by his own tormented past…or lack of it. Thinking of Fenris' lack of memories, Anders mused that the elf must feel like a lost child.

Walking the coastal path back into Kirkwall, the two mages were in deep conversation. The sun was going down, setting the sea aflame with colour. Shadows cast on the path from the rocky sides of Sundermount made it necessary to carefully watch the footing. Pausing to examine an Elfroot plant, Cailan Hawke stared at Anders, a look of worry on his face. "Do you really think we did the right thing letting them all go?"

Anders looked back at him, considering for a moment before he spoke. "There was no choice. What else could we have done? Let the Templars take them all? But we could have done with more help. Merrill, or better still Fenris or Aveline, I'm drained."

Hawke reached in his bag and threw Anders a lyrium potion. "Easier said than done. We may have been dealing with blood mages, and I really don't need the disapproval from Fenris, especially on mage related matters." Grinning Hawke continued, "Mind you, I hear Fenris isn't complaining about all mages anymore." Pale green eyes twinkling, he stood, arms crossed, staring at Anders, waiting for a response.

Anders glared up at his friend opposite. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, just that I hear you and Fenris have been getting close recently." Hawke's grin was huge.

Anders stood staring at Hawke. He is so cocky, thought Anders, standing there, massive grin on his face. Not for the first time he thought on just how attractive his friend was. Green eyes set into lightly tanned skin, his dark blonde hair blowing around his face in the breeze, turning bright gold as the sun caught it. It would be so much easier if he wanted Cailan instead of Fenris.

"If you weren't so cute I'd roast you for that." He made a mock glare as he flicked a small fireball at Hawke.

Hawke dismissed the fireball with a wave of his hand. "Seriously, what's going on? I've caught you a couple of times looking, and why not? Fenris is stunning… but… he's not what you need."

"And what do I need? Please don't say you!" Anders said sarcastically, starting to walk along the path

"Piss off. You're too much hard work. And anyway, I'm seeing someone." He blew at a kiss at Anders. "You're like the two most messed up people I know. Hooking up, if Fenris even goes that way… potion of disaster."

Grabbing at the 'kiss' and pretending to tuck it in his pocket, Anders couldn't help but brag a little. "Well… if the way he kissed me and the bulge in his leggings was a indicator, I'd say Fenris does definitely go that way."

Hawke came to a sudden halt. "Really!" staring at Anders. "Whoa, all Varric said was…"

"Oh I should of guessed this came from Varric," Anders interrupted. "And who are you… hold on," he pointed ahead to a small group of mercenaries, pulling their swords out and running towards the two mages. "Does this look like trouble or am I just paranoid?"

Hawke took off running, pulling his staff out and casting a shield. "This conversation isn't over," he warned, turning to look at Anders. "I'm getting answers out of you." He spun back round to the job at hand, firing ice bolts at the mercenaries.

Fenris lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't been out since his disastrous visit to the Blooming Rose. He was full of shame for going, and embarrassed that he couldn't even go through with it when he got there. He'd stayed in for close to a week—admittedly brooding, but also using the time to try and sort through his own feelings. He had taken steps to try and find out about the sister Hadriana had mentioned, asking Varric to help him write a letter when he dwarf had popped round to check on the surly elf.

The rest of the time he'd spent thinking, and drinking if the amount of empty wine bottles on the floor was any indicator. Nothing was making any sense, nothing was any clearer. Would it help resolve his feelings if he saw Anders again, maybe even to talked to him? The mere thought of seeing the mage brought a tight knot of lust to his stomach, shooting down to his groin. Sighing, he decided to visit the Hanged Man. Maybe Anders would be there, or at least some of his other companions, to distract him. He still didn't know how he felt about that, in equal measures desperate to see the mage and dreading seeing him, knowing deep down that it would only confirm his fears, that he really had fallen for the mage.

Settling back into the cosy bench, Anders watched Cailan walking back to his seat, drinks in hand. He had a 'certain' look. Anders was fairly sure he knew what was coming next.

Sitting opposite Anders, Hawke slid a pint of mead over. They were both a little low on mana after all the fighting, and the mead would help restore them.

"Sooo," Hawke began "where were we? Ahh yes, you and Fenris. So tell me all. What is going on?" He settled back in his seat and picked up his drink.

"OK, yes, something happened. And now," Anders shrugged, "I honestly don't know." He proceeded to tell Cailan some of what had occurred. "And that's it. We kissed and he pulled back and left, just walked off, and no, I have no idea why and I haven't seen him since. I've been busy and… well, I thought he might need a bit of time to think things through," Anders finished, deliberately leaving out Fenris' shocked reactions to being touched so intimately.

"Huh!" Hawke said. "Well, so you think he sobered up and saw who he was with and… Oow!" He laughed as Anders pinged a nut shell at him, striking him on the face.

"Anyway, shut up about me. Who are you seeing?" He turned, interrupted by the bang as the door opened and Fenris walked in. Anders gave a little gasp at the spasm of tension seeing Fenris caused him, a gripping pain in his chest, making him lose his breath. Staring at the elf as he crossed the room heading for the bar, the ache eased, and in the warm glow of memory he recalled Fenris in his arms, his lips… Smiling softly, he was brought out of his daze by a nut shell pinging him.

"Uh-ohh, subtle," Hawke beamed at him, starting to laugh.

"Shit, I've got it bad haven't I?" Anders admitted, joining him in laughter.

Fenris stood at the bar. Hearing the laughter behind him, a slow burn built up in his chest. His fingers tensed around the glass he held as he turned to look at them, together, sitting by the fire. Swearing softly to himself in Tevinter, and throwing down his coin, he stalked out of the bar, casting a furious glance at the two mages.

"What the…?" Hawke looked shocked. "Where's he going?"

"Shit, he's upset isn't he?" Jumping up, Anders moved to go after the elf. "He thinks were laughing at him, I'll bet, and that I've told…" Realising exactly where they had sat, he said "Shit!" as he ran out the door.

Hawke stood up, laughing and shaking his head. Walking across the bar, he sat next to Varric and Isabela. "More Anders/Fenris drama, Hawke?" Varric asked.

"It looks that way" the mage agreed. "What have you got there?" he asked Isabela, who was twirling a round glass bottle in her hand.

"Oh this?" she tucked it away. "Nothing special, just, makeup… yes makeup." She grinned at Hawke. "So, it's your round, right?"

"Oh yeah, it's my round, of course it is, champion of Kirkwall, buckets of cash, anything else while I'm up there your ladyship?" Cailan stomped off towards the bar, turning round and looking back at them, a daft smile plastered to his handsome face.

"So, who is it then?" Isabela asked, watching Hawke at the bar.

"Jethann" Varric replied, not looking up from his notes.

"Really," she purred, "No wonder our champion is looking so pleased with himself lately".

"Fenris!" Anders called as soon as he got out of the door. Looking around wildly in the light of the waning moon, he saw a white head of hair disappearing down the stairs towards the Foundry District.

Running after, he pounded down the steps, reaching out and grabbing the elf. "Fenris stop." He turned his friend around to face him.

"What?" snarled Fenris. "Take your hands off me." He shook himself free and backed away from the mage. Heading into an alley, he leaned alongside a wall, arms folded, watching Anders with hurt, yet angry, eyes. "Don't touch me."

"No." Anders took a step forward and clasped the elf's shoulders, ignoring the glow coming from Fenris' markings. "I will bloody touch you. I know what you're thinking. Why you're angry." Fenris turned his head, refusing to meet the mage's eyes. Shaking him lightly, Anders forced Fenris to look at him. "You think, I told Hawke, about you and me, right?"

Fenris looked up at Anders, mouth set in a stern line, eyes glowing angrily. "That's part of it," he spat.

"And the rest?" Anders moved his arms down, circling the elf's waist, holding him lightly.

"Are you together?" He placed his hands on the mage's chest, the lyrium bright in his anger, flaring up to his elbows.

"What, me and Cailan? Maker no!" Anders shook his head. "What, why do you think that? Because of where we were sitting? I'm sorry I didn't realise…"

"That you were laughing… about me… while you flirted in our seat!" The jealously was written all over Fenris' face.

"Oh Fenris…" Reaching out he cupped the elf's cheek. "You're beautiful, you're amazing. You've been through hell and survived. You're a fucking invincible warrior. I only want you." He pulled Fenris towards him and kissed him, lightly, gently flicking his tongue over Fenris' lips, sucking softly on his bottom lip, till the elf gave in. Sighing, Fenris opened his mouth and kissed passionately back.

Anders broke the kiss, wrapping his arms tight around Fenris. "You feel so good in my arms," he murmured, kissing Fenris' ear. "Look I've wanted to see you all week, to talk about what happened. Why don't we go and get a drink?"

"No! I don't want to go in there with you, to be an object of ridicule and gossip." Fenris pulled back from Anders, returning to his position on the wall.

"So what now then? Do we go back to pacing around each other like dogs, you snapping at me, while we both deny our attraction for each other?" Anders asked angrily.

"I don't know!" shouted Fenris, his lyrium brands blazing. "I don't know what I want. You don't understand, this is awakening memories in me, and it's hard." He looked up at Anders, large green eyes pleading. "I've never had privacy, never had the choice not to be used as meat, or as some, some kind of elven battery and now…" he sighed, "now that I have feelings for somebody, it's all getting mixed up, the good and the bad, and I just don't know…"

Anders paused. For once he didn't know what to say. He was initially thrilled to hear Fenris admit he had feelings for him. Still he couldn't imagine what Fenris must be suffering. But if what had happened between them and what the elf had gone through in his slave past were getting mixed up… he shook his head, "I didn't know." Meeting Fenris' eyes, he asked, "Anything, anything I can do?"

Reaching over, Anders took the gauntleted hand in his own, holding it lightly, running his thumb over the palm, looking up at Fenris. The elf's sadness was obvious. "Let me go?" Fenris asked.

Anders watched Fenris leave before returning to the Hanged Man. What he really wanted to do was run up to Fenris and hold him, let the elf know that he was there and cared for him, but he knew better. Taking a seat, he looked at his friends. All three faces were turned on him, staring… waiting "What?" he asked.

"Well, you're alone, so I'm guessing it didn't go too well?" Hawke observed sarcastically.

"Evidently not," murmured Anders, not wanting to discuss it further.

"Sorry." Hawke leaned over and gave his friend a brief hug.

"Careful Hawke, you'll give Fenris more than that drunken kiss to be jealous about," said Varric

"What! How does he know about that, and who else knows!" shouted Anders, a look of horror on his face.

"Well I might have told Varric," Hawke admitted.

"You did!" Exclaimed the dwarf. "In front of the whole pub, I may add."

"Why, Cailan?" Anders rubbed his head. "So Fenris knows. No wonder he was jealous."

"Uh, Blondie, I'm pretty sure the whole of Kirkwall knows," laughed Varric.

"I remember this," Isabela chuckled. "You were trying to advise Aveline about not spoiling working relationships, and you were as pissed as a brewery rat, and when she got up to leave you called out, 'Noooo don't do it. I kissed Anders and it's been weird ever since,' and the whole place went quiet." The pirate threw her head back laughing, Varric joining in.

Anders just stared at Cailan. "Oh you didn't!" as he tried not to laugh at the other mage's embarrassment. "It hasn't been weird, has it?" he asked.

"No it hasn't, and truth be told, I don't even remember doing it," Hawke admitted.

"Well you did," grinned Varric, tapping his notes.

"And Fenris definitely heard?" asked Anders, faint hope in his voice.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry," Hawke said in a quiet voice.

"Guhhhhh," Anders laid his head on the table top. "Get me a drink… lots of drinks"

Fenris sat on the edge of his bed, watching the rain drip through the holes in the ceiling. Yet another wet Kirkwall night. He jumped slightly as a loud knock resounded through the mansion and into the bedroom. Grumbling to himself, he got up to go and see who was at the door.

Varric stood on the doorstep, soaking wet, "I just came to check on you, Broody, didn't realise I was going to get so wet. Brought you a new book as well." He stepped into the mansion.

Standing upstairs by the fire, his clothes steaming as they dried, Varric unwrapped the oilskin and handed Fenris the book. "Enjoy it," he grinned. "This one's a ride! So you've been hiding yourself away for a while. Anything I can do to help? Need any uh 'personal' advice?"

"I have not been hiding myself away, and why would I need personal advice?" Fenris took the book, turning it over in his hands.

Varric looked up at him. "Come on now, you must think I've got nug shit for brains. You and Blondie, eh?"

"There is no 'me and Blondie'," he growled, placing the book down on the chair and pacing by the fire.

"Let me give you some advice Broody. Your heart is like this house, once fine and beautiful, but you inhabit just a few rooms and seal off entire wings, and eventually both become old ruins. But at night when you're alone, you can hear the ghosts that weep and wail there."

Turning away from the fire Varric, made his way towards the door. "Don't let this house become a model for your heart. Blondie's a good guy, and more than that, he cares for you." Patting Fenris arm, he left, letting himself out.

Varric's words spun through his mind as Fenris lay in bed trying to concentrate on his book. His bed was the one, if not the only, luxury he'd allowed himself to buy. Other than the bare necessities for living, he brought very little for the mansion. It was a symbol of who he'd come to hunt, even if it seemed Danarius had never actually owned the place. The worse it looked, the more it reminded him of that, of how he must always protect himself.

The bed however was a different matter. He bought the largest, most comfortable, feather and down bed he could. Maybe it was years of sleeping on floors in various slave quarters, or the first signs of breaking free from his slave conditioning. Whichever it was, Fenris took great pleasure in the deep filled mattress and pillows. Stripping off his armour at night and climbing in was a luxury, a time of privacy and peace. Not one to completely relax, his giant broadsword leant in a custom made notch in the headboard, readily available if he should need it.

A faint scratching noise drew his attention. Raising his head, he concentrated on the sounds. A definite scratching. It must be rats, thinking this house deserted, seeking shelter from the rain. Silently climbing out of bed, he pulled on a loose red tunic, and taking up his sword crept out of the main room he lived in. As he descended the stairs he heard it again. A rustling joined the noise. It was coming from the front hall. Padding in on tiptoe, he raised the sword, ready to bring it down on the vermin, when he paused. This was no rat. Instead, a large, soaking wet, bedraggled tabby cat stood in the corner of the hall, pawing amongst a pile of old papers he'd never thrown out, back arched, fur in all directions. It hissed in warning at Fenris.

Smiling Fenris lowered the sword. The cat had just spoken to him in a manner he knew very well. Taking in the sight of the pathetic creature, Fenris decided to leave it be. It could do no harm, and, if anything, it would keep the rats at bay. Retrieving his book, he got back into bed. Laying there, hearing the rain beat down on the roof, he felt satisfied that he'd allowed the creature to stay, not wanting a creature so pathetic to have to suffer the cold rain as well.


End file.
